


nothing else matters

by imagines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Bottom Shiro, Dom Keith, Face-Sitting, Fingering, Ice Play, Implied Dysphoria, M/M, Sub Shiro, Tickling, afab language, binders, dom kuron, dom/sub dynamics, partly-clothed sex, shiro has a lot of job stress, surgery scars, this is how he relaxes :), trans keith, trans kuron, trans shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 16:13:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: Kuron and Keith have been looking concerned lately. “I’m fine,” Shiro keeps telling them. Nothing’s wrong—there’s just a lot going on at work right now. It happens. It’s no big deal if, every day, his shoulders get tenser and his jaw tighter and his smile smaller.Except one afternoon, Shiro’s got his back turned in the kitchen, and someone touches his shoulder, and Shiro gasps and whirls like he’s about to fight—but it’s just Keith. Just Keith, and Kuron watching as it happens. Shiro’s skin still feels like it’s gonna vibrate right off him.“God,” Shiro says, laughing through gritted teeth. “I really need to relax, huh?”Keith looks at Kuron. Kuron looks at Keith.Shiro watches them come to some kind of silent mutual decision, and realizes he’s in for it now.“Yeah,” Keith says, finally. “That sounds like a good idea. Want us to help you out?”Shiro nods, taking his first deep breath in what feels like weeks. He can’t wait.





	nothing else matters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [otapocalypse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otapocalypse/gifts).



> I HAVE BEEN WRITING THIS SINCE SEPTEMBER BUT HERE IT IS. By request from [Casey](https://twitter.com/foe_of_redwall/)\--thank you so much for your patience, hand-holding, and friendship in general! ilsym!! <3
> 
> ** If you need a heads-up for WHICH afab language appears, I've listed it in the end notes.

Kuron and Keith have been looking concerned lately. “I’m fine,” Shiro keeps telling them. Nothing’s wrong—there’s just a lot going on at work right now. It happens. It’s no big deal if, every day, his shoulders get tenser and his jaw tighter and his smile smaller.

Except one afternoon, Shiro’s got his back turned in the kitchen, and someone touches his shoulder, and Shiro gasps and whirls like he’s about to fight—but it’s just Keith. Just Keith, and Kuron watching as it happens. Shiro’s skin still feels like it’s gonna vibrate right off him.

“God,” Shiro says, laughing through gritted teeth. “I really need to relax, huh?”

Keith looks at Kuron. Kuron looks at Keith.

Shiro watches them come to some kind of silent mutual decision, and realizes he’s in for it now.

“Yeah,” Keith says, finally. “That sounds like a good idea. Want us to help you out?”

Shiro nods, taking his first deep breath in what feels like weeks. He can’t wait.

* * *

A couple of days go by, and nothing happens. Keith and Kuron still give each other the occasional meaningful look, but Shiro’s started to wonder if maybe he’s misreading things. If Keith’s hand slides down to cup Shiro’s ass a little more often when they’re kissing hello and goodbye, if Kuron keeps biting his lip every time he looks at Shiro, it…could be nothing. But given their past activities, it probably isn’t nothing. The question is _when_ it’ll happen, and whether it will be before Shiro dies of arousal while imagining what they might be planning.

* * *

Eventually, on a quiet Friday evening at home with a soft rain falling outside, Shiro can’t take waiting anymore. Their hands have been all over him since he got home from work—Keith pawing at the inside of Shiro’s thighs all during dinner; Kuron cuddling him on the couch afterward and not-so-innocently brushing curious fingers over Shiro’s nipples. Repeatedly. While sighing happily. This sort of treatment would make anyone snap.

“If you’re gonna do something, just _do_ it,” Shiro begs. “Enough teasing!”

“Teasing?” Keith asks, sounding scandalized. “I wasn’t—” He looks at Kuron. “I mean, were you? _I_ wasn’t teasing anyone.”

Kuron rumbles a laugh, his mouth hot against Shiro’s shoulder. “I would never tease. I always follow through.”

Shiro grits his teeth. “Then _follow through_ already.”

“Aww, bad day at work, baby?” Keith rubs his palm back and forth over Shiro’s belly in a way that pretends to be soothing, but just gets Shiro more worked up.

“Actually, yeah,” Shiro says. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the couch. “Iverson’s lightened up, sure, but he still isn’t what you’d call easygoing. I swear the stack of paperwork on my desk is taller than I am. And I’ve got all these new cadets to assign to mentors, and a few of them will be tough to place. I walk in stressed and walk out stressed and never get a moment to breathe in between.”

“Sounds rough. But I know you’ll figure it out, babe,” Keith soothes. “You placed me just fine, after all.”

“I placed you with _me_.”

“And?”

“I can’t take on all of them myself!”

“No, but you’re good at figuring out what they need and which mentor can provide it. It’s gonna be okay, Shiro.” Keith nibbles at Shiro’s earlobe, sharp little teeth digging in hard. “You’re so tired after today, aren’t you? The work can wait for now. It’ll be there tomorrow when you’re rested.”

Kuron slips his hand into Shiro’s. “Right now, all we want is for you to be here with us.”

“Sorry…” Shiro pets Keith’s hair; squeezes Kuron’s hand. “I know I haven’t really been paying attention to you guys.”

“Mm, it’s not about that,” Kuron says. “You don’t have to worry about us. We just want to take care of you. Will you let us?”

* * *

So that’s how Shiro ends up on his back on their bed with his wrists tied to the headboard and his ankles to the bedposts. Kuron and Keith had held him close and stripped him slowly, telling him how good he was, how beautiful and sweet and strong. And then they’d lain him down and bound him—spread his legs wide and left him powerless and wanting, while they’re still dressed in soft T-shirts and sweatpants. Shiro wants their skin against his, oh, more than anything. It’s one more tantalizing reward for him to earn.

“Not too tight, is it?” Kuron asks, stroking the cuff around Shiro’s left ankle. They’ve only left the one light on, the nightstand lamp that shines with a soft yellow glow, and in the semidarkness, Kuron’s eyes look almost black.

Shiro shakes his head. Already the haze is settling over him. He knows he needs to let it all go, and here, safe in their hands, maybe he can.

“Good.” Kuron smiles, a little bit loving and a little bit evil, and brushes his fingers up the sole of Shiro’s foot.

Shiro throws his head back, barely holding back a yelp. They _want_ him screaming, but he’ll be damned if he does it so soon.

So Kuron grips Shiro’s foot in one hand and does it again. This time, he draws endless tiny circles with his index finger, right in the center of the arch, watching with Keith as Shiro shakes and gasps, waiting patiently—

Shiro lets out a broken roar, thrashing in his bonds, and instantly the torment changes to relief. Kuron digs both thumbs into the aching muscles in Shiro’s foot, massaging away the built-up tension and pain of long hours of standing. “Fuck, that feels good,” Shiro sighs.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Keith says, coming around to the side of the bed. He sits down, drawing one leg up onto the bed, and squeezes Shiro’s thigh. “To make you feel good.” Then he bends down to kiss Shiro, sliding his hand between Shiro’s legs as he does.

It’s too easy and too soon, and Shiro knows it, but he can’t stop himself from bucking into Keith’s hand. Restrained as he is, there’s almost no leverage. And Keith doesn’t help him one bit—just kisses him soft and lets Shiro work his cunt against Keith’s palm.

Just as Shiro’s got the edge in sight, Keith takes his hand away and holds it up for Shiro to see. His palm shines slick in the low light, displaying the proof of Shiro’s need. “Look at this,” Keith says. He shows Kuron, too. “Messy boy.”

Shiro, left high and squirming, can only whimper something between an apology and a plea.

“Oh, baby.” Keith eases himself down, covering Shiro with his lithe body. His clothed thigh presses up against Shiro’s cunt—half a respite from exposure, half a new kind of torture. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I _want_ you wet. Gonna make you wetter. If I have my way, these sheets will be soaked when we’re done with you.” He drags his nails up Shiro’s side, his touch so slow and light that Shiro tries to curl sideways away from it. But Keith’s hand follows Shiro’s body, inescapable, and he continues right up Shiro’s armpit and the sensitive underside of his arm as Shiro wriggles uselessly, all the way to Shiro’s wrists, where he grabs Shiro’s flesh hand and squeezes hard. “Not too tight here either?”

“It’s perfect,” Shiro whispers.

“You’re perfect,” Keith whispers back. His voice sends heat flooding into Shiro’s belly, even before his demanding mouth lands on Shiro’s and he opens up Shiro for a bruising kiss.

At the other end of the bed, Kuron lets go of Shiro’s feet and leans forward to press fluttering little kisses on Shiro’s ankles and the insides of his knees. “Keith,” he murmurs against Shiro’s skin, the vibrations making Shiro writhe. “Should I go get…” He doesn’t finish. Evidently, it’s a surprise.

“Yeah,” Keith answers. “He’s ready for it.”

Shiro’s blood surges, exhilaration and fear buzzing under his skin. He breathes deeply, preparing himself for whatever they’re planning for him.

Keith pets the buzzed sides of Shiro’s hair, smiling down at him. “Doing okay, babe?” Keith asks.

Shiro grins back. “I’m great.” He can endure anything, as long as Keith keeps looking at him like that.

After only a minute or two, Kuron returns holding a small bowl. As he sets it on the nightstand, something clinks. He doesn’t miss Shiro’s tiny gasp. “That’s right, beautiful. Your favorite.”

Keith sits back a little so that he’s sitting astride Shiro’s hips, almost immobilizing him. Like an offering, Shiro’s torso is laid bare for Kuron.

Kuron reaches into the bowl with his metal hand and takes out an ice cube. He holds it high over Shiro’s sternum. His hand starts to glow faintly, and drops of cold water splash onto Shiro’s chest. The ice gleams in the lamplight. Shiro can’t take his eyes off it. “Told you we’d make you wet,” Kuron says. Deadpan, but his eyes are crinkling at the corners. Keith doubles over laughing, pressing his forehead against Shiro’s damp chest.

Shiro groans. “You’re _awful_ ,” he informs Kuron.

“You love it.”

Well, Shiro can’t deny that.

Kuron must be done playing around, because next thing Shiro knows, he’s dragging the ice cube down his chest, down his stomach, then angling to the side to drag it along the inside of Shiro’s thigh, making him hiss. He pauses at the back of Shiro’s knee to press the ice hard against the sensitive skin, waiting until Shiro starts to squirm and whimper before continuing downward.

Keith distracts Shiro from the delicate agony Kuron is inflicting on him—biting and sucking red marks into the skin of his hips and stomach; kissing the faded horizontal scars on his chest. He drops more kisses along the base of Shiro’s throat, dipping his tongue into the hollows of his collarbones; little soft brushes of his lips and tongue that send shivers rolling through Shiro’s body.

The ice is traveling up his other leg now. It circles his ankle, skates over his kneecap, and rests for a moment in the dip of his hipbone. Kuron follows its path with the fingertips of his metal hand, just this side of comfortably warm. Shiro is begging again; for what, he isn’t sure. For more. For anything. He knows they’ll give him everything. Somewhere along the way, he slipped into the haze that lets him give in, his muscles and mind gone slack. In this space, he belongs to them.

“Doing okay?” Keith murmurs in his ear.

By now, the ice has melted into nothing. Blissful and floating, Shiro nods.

“Good. Sit tight for a sec.” Keith pats his shoulder and rises up onto his knees.

“What—” Shiro blinks, trying to comprehend the sudden lack of attention.

Keith is leaning forward and pulling Kuron into a deep kiss; they embrace each other across Shiro’s body, leaving him panting and needy. One-handed, Keith unties the drawstring of Kuron’s sweatpants and slides his hand down the front. Shiro can’t see what Keith is doing, but given the sweet little cries tumbling from Kuron’s mouth, given the way he’s rocking his hips in time with the motion of Keith’s arm, Shiro _knows_.

He tries to be good, but he wants them _so badly_. He presses his lips together, but Kuron gets louder and Shiro’s composure snaps. Suddenly he’s whining, straining at his bonds, struggling to get closer to them, but it’s useless.

They break the kiss. Keith stares down at Shiro. “Was there something you wanted?” His hand hasn’t stopped moving. Kuron is hanging on to his shoulders, head bowed, taking whatever Keith is giving him.

“I want—” Shiro’s mouth is so dry. He clears his throat and tries again. “That, I want that.” He can move only his head to gesture in the direction of what Keith is doing. “Please?”

“You want…what?” Keith is the picture of innocence, as if his fingers aren’t buried inside Kuron right this moment. “Use your words, Shiro.”

“God, just—” Shiro squirms, twists his body at the hips, tries to squeeze his legs closer together—anything to get a little friction, but there’s absolutely _nothing_. He’s at their mercy—he’ll only get what they decide he’s allowed to have. The thought only makes him burn hotter. “Fuck me,” he pleads. “Please, _please_ , I really need it.”

“Yeah, I know you do.” Keith trails the back of his free hand along Shiro’s jaw. “You need us to fill you up, huh? Your poor cunt must be aching for it. I bet I could slide a nice thick toy inside you right now and you wouldn’t even struggle to take it.”

Shiro latches on to faint hope. “You could,” he gasps. “I could handle it. It would feel so good, Keith, please?” Even if they didn’t fuck him yet—even if they just left it inside him for him to clench around—

“Hmm. No, I think you can be patient a little bit longer,” Keith decides. “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get your turn.”

Keith turns away, back to Kuron, and Shiro can’t help the wounded noise that bursts out of him. But neither of them pay him any mind.

Keith’s hand is moving faster now; the slick sounds are louder, and Kuron looks like he can barely stay upright. With a ragged curse, Kuron bites down on Keith’s shoulder, Keith’s arm around him all that keeps him from collapsing. “Beautiful,” Keith whispers. “You look so good when you come for me.” Slowly, he removes his hand from Kuron’s pants. He looks down at Shiro, a calculating expression in his eyes. “Open your mouth.”

Keith telegraphs his movements enough—Shiro could turn his head away, or close his mouth, if he really wanted to. Instead he holds Keith’s gaze; keeps holding it it while Keith pushes his fingers into Shiro’s mouth and pets his tongue. Obediently, Shiro licks him clean.

Kuron’s flushed and sweating, and he pulls his T-shirt over his head and tosses it in the general direction of the floor, leaving his black cropped binder. His ribcage heaves as he tries to catch his breath. Shiro allows himself several moments to appreciate the lines of Kuron’s abs and the swell of his thighs—thin, gray sweatpants always cling just right, in Shiro’s professional opinion. “He’s behaved himself so well,” Kuron says. “I think he deserves a reward.”

Keith grins. “Well, since he likes having something in his mouth so much—” He kicks off his pants and underwear and crawls to kneel above Shiro’s head, one knee on either side of his face. There, he strokes himself, parting his swollen folds, letting Shiro see the slick shine of his desire. “Look at this,” he sighs. “Look what you do to me.” With two fingers, he slides back his hood, exposing the head of his clit. “You make me so fucking hard.” He grips Shiro’s bangs in one hand, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to hold him still. “You want it? Beg me for it.”

Sometimes, it’s fun to play around longer and resist. Right now, Shiro just _wants_. “Please,” he whimpers. “Please let me. I’ll make you feel so good, whatever you want, just let me taste you.”

“You’re so desperate,” Keith says. “But you beg so pretty, I just can’t tell you no.” Slowly, he lowers himself until his clit is brushing Shiro’s lips, and pulls up the hem of his shirt to keep it out of the way. “Suck, baby.”

Gently, Shiro takes him into his mouth; soft suction has Keith squirming within seconds.

“That’s it, honey,” Keith pants. “Fuck, you’re good at this.” He presses down a little harder, grinding his wet cunt against Shiro’s lips and tongue. “Just like that. Choke on my cunt, sweetheart.”

Shiro’s flying—held down and moaning, salt and tang bursting across his tongue as Keith uses his mouth. Distantly, he registers Kuron moving to straddle one of his legs. Soft fabric presses down against his thigh, and—and Kuron is rolling against him, cursing softly, as he grinds against Shiro. If one of them touched him right now, he’d probably come on the spot, but they’re in no hurry to let him.

Keith pats his cheek lightly to get his attention. “I’m going to untie one of your hands,” he says. “And you’re going to finger my ass until I come in your mouth.”

Mouth full of Keith’s cunt, all Shiro can do is whine in agreement.

Keith frees Shiro’s left hand and coats his fingers in lube, and as Shiro pushes into the incredible tight heat of him, Keith throws his head back and shouts. Keith’s thrusts turn frantic; all Shiro can do is let Keith fuck his mouth and ride his fingers, until Keith comes on a choked-off growl, shuddering above him. Moments later, Kuron is breathless and whimpering, and Shiro can feel the dampness on his thigh even through the cloth of Kuron’s pants.

They all take a minute to recover. Then Kuron taps Keith’s shoulder. “There’s still some ice left,” he says. “If you wanted to try it.”

“Oh God,” Shiro mumbles.

Kuron pats his thigh. “You can handle it, right?”

Shiro nods, because of course he can, he can handle a little more of whatever they can through at him, he—

Keith doesn’t give Shiro much warning before he’s rubbing an ice cube over his opening, letting it melt against the heat of him, numbing him. Shiro can feel the freezing water trickling down over his asshole, wordless cries tearing out of his throat. Kuron is holding Shiro’s free hand and saying sweet, soothing things to him, but at this point, Shiro is mindless from the pain and arousal, and he barely notices the words.

Keith pulls away, and Shiro’s dazed state lifts long enough to realize Keith is speaking to him. “Huh? What?”

“You all right?” Keith asks.

“Hah. Doing great. Just… wanna come.”

“I know, love,” Keith coos. “Do one more thing for me, and I’ll make you come, okay?”

“Okay,” Shiro whispers.

“Ask me for it,” Keith says. With one cold fingertip, he strokes the hood of Shiro’s clit. “Ask me to put it right here.”

Oh, fuck. “Please.” Shiro’s voice shakes. “ _Please_ ,” he tries again. “Put it— _fuck_ —”

“Where, baby?” Keith’s fist is closed around the ice cube and resting on the vee of Shiro’s hip. Icy water drips from between his fingers, down the crease of Shiro’s thigh, soaking into the sheets beneath him. “Tell me where you need it.”

Shiro shivers, imagining how it’ll feel when Keith—when— “On my clit,” he gasps. “Keith—”

“Good boy.” Keith opens his hand; it’s wet, and red from the cold. He takes the ice between his thumb and forefinger and brings it down, stopping just before it touches Shiro. “Just five seconds, all right? I’m gonna count it.” Then he’s spreading apart Shiro’s labia and Shiro’s inhaling and—

_one_

_two_

—he’s fighting it, heels skidding on the sheets as his body tries to jerk away—

_three_

—his cheeks are wet and he can’t he can’t he _can’t_ —

_four_

—Keith’s fingers holding him open, a bright blue star of freezing pain exploding at his core—

_five_

“Oh, sweetheart,” Keith is whispering, and his mouth is closing over Shiro’s clit, his tongue like a brand, his cold fingers plunging deep just like Shiro needs, and Shiro _screams_.

* * *

Shiro rises out of the fog a little while later to find himself nestled between the two of them. Kuron traces his fingertips up and down Shiro’s bare arms, sending frissons skittering along his skin, while Keith gently cleans him with a warm, soft washcloth. He’s aching all over from the strain on his limbs—later, when he feels like standing up, they’ll get him settled in a bath if he asks for one. For now, he drifts in the half-dream state he always finds himself in after an intense scene.

He hears Kuron laugh quietly. “What is it?” he wants to know.

“You’re smiling,” Kuron informs him.

He can feel it—a huge, dopey grin, easy as anything. He doesn’t remember the last time he smiled like this. And even with the soreness in his muscles, he feels boneless. Not a care in the world.

Keith finishes with the washcloth and comes further up the bed to cuddle Shiro properly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like the two of you slammed some big reset button in my brain,” Shiro murmurs. He’ll have to go back to work after the weekend, but he’s living in the present, and the present contains his two strong, gorgeous boyfriends taking care of him. For now, nothing else matters.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ** afab language I've used in this fic: clit, cunt, hoods, folds. The rest is neutral.
> 
> \--
> 
> ...TFW your id and your friend's id meet up and have a party.
> 
> Additional shout-outs to [Nico](https://twitter.com/shibarikeith) and Liv for all of their validation and excited yelling. Literally could not have done this without the support of wonderful people like them. <3
> 
> Fun fact, I didn't name this after [the Metallica song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAGnKpE4NCI), but those lyrics actually fit sheith to a T. Life is funny that way.
> 
> And as always, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/belovedsheith)!


End file.
